


Where a cloud and a cloud go by

by Vampiric_Charms



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Summer of mutual pining, a little bit of anxiety, and a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 10:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiric_Charms/pseuds/Vampiric_Charms
Summary: A relaxing a day at the beach during the summer turns into more of a day of introspection than Yuuri expected - for both himself and for Victor.  Not that that is necessarily abadthing.  Quite the opposite, really, when Victor’s gentle soul finally brings out Yuuri’s need to...well, Yuuri isn’t exactly sure on that part yet.  But he’s trying.





	Where a cloud and a cloud go by

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the Summer of Mutual Pining. Enjoy!

****The air was hot as it beat down on them, unrelenting and humid.  They had long since dried from their swim in the ocean and Yuuri was starting to feel a little itchy from the saltwater, but he was content in their sprawl on the sun-warmed sand.  He and Victor were sharing the largest beach towel between them, spread long-ways only under their shoulders, so the second one could be folded like a long, flat pillow as they stared up at the sky.

Or, rather, Victor was staring up at the sky, watching as the sharp wind off the sea blew big, billowing clouds across the deep blue horizon above them.  

Yuuri adjusted his gaze when Victor pointed - “A shieldmaiden defending her tower from a dragon, Yuuri, look!” he said with a smile, though Yuuri only saw puffs of white and grey, not a tower and no dragon to be found.  Others were easier - “It’s Makkachin!” or “That one looks like a bowl of rice, doesn’t it?” - but still, cloud gazing did not seem to be Yuuri’s strength.

It had been Victor’s idea to come to the beach, using half the day after Yuuri was done on the ice in the morning.   _Part of your cardio_ , he suggested, _and also some time to play_.  It had taken a bit of cajoling, but true to his word, at least, Victor hadn’t exactly let him rest when they arrived.  He’d put their bags and bento boxes down with the towels and dragged Yuuri right into the water, Makkachin on their heels.

And now...now Yuuri was tired, his muscles used and relaxed, and he could feel the late afternoon sun on his skin, feel the wind tickling his hair, his toes.  The sand was compressing under his back, warm from the summer day and soothing to his body so that he didn’t even care that every grain would stick when he stood up.  And he could smell Victor, with just a hand of space between them: the SPF 90 sunscreen he panic-bought at the beginning of May, his sweat mingling with the lotion to lie heavy in the humid air, so every breath Yuuri took was edged with him right on the end.

Makkachin was curled at Victor’s other side, her fluffy head resting on his stomach as a pillow as she slept off her romp through the surf.  Her curls were stiff with dried seawater and sand, but Victor was holding her close anyway, petting her floppy ears cheerfully. Every now and again Yuuri got a whiff, also, of hot, wet dog (a dog that definitely needed a bath).

It was unbelievably comfortable.  

Yuuri wasn’t _used to_ Victor, in any sense of the word.  But his nearness didn’t set him on a precipice anymore, it didn’t make him want to explode into a million little pieces of embarrassed poster-confetti.  He was such a part of Yuuri’s world now, seamless, effortless.

And now his nearness made Yuuri’s heart beat for another reason, one that was both new and old.  

“Yuuri, look,” Victor said suddenly, pulling Yuuri from his thoughts with a quick excited tap on his arm.  “That one is like a chicken, do you see?”

It took a moment for Yuuri to recognize which cloud Victor was talking about, but then he saw it, too, and grinned.  “You’re right, it does!”

Victor hummed, pleased to have finally pointed one out that Yuuri actually saw, and Yuuri slid his eyes down from their upward view just as the bright expression of joy on Victor’s face faded to one that was more subdued in the harsh sunshine.  But Victor continued watching the sky, studying the fluffy clouds as Makkachin slept against him.

“Is this alright, Yuuri?”

The far-away tone of the question took him off guard and, not sure what Victor was referring to, Yuuri asked, “Is what alright?”

“This,” Victor clarified, raising an arm up and gesturing around them to the sky and the beach.  “Coming out here and losing half your day of practice. I know you were reluctant to, and I pushed maybe a little harder than I should have.  We can go back, if you want.”

“No,” said Yuuri in response, maybe a bit quickly, but he added softly, “this is fine.”

Victor turned his head for a moment to give him a bright, happy smile, one Yuuri returned with a familiar swoop in his stomach.  It was so real, everything warm and gentle between them, and he relished every second, watching as Victor’s pale hair, drying and stiff from the leftover sea salt, flopped away from his face when he looked back up to the sky.

“I always - ”  Victor started but stopped almost immediately, already reforming the words he wanted to say.  Yuuri watched him still, more curious than scared the way he used to be at the falling stillness, as Victor silently searched his expansive multilingual vocabulary.

“After I started winning,” Victor tried again, Yuuri’s eyes glued to him, “everything else stopped.  My time was always in the rink, or sleeping, or studying for school. As I got older, Yakov demanded all the rest of it too, my time.”  He fell quiet, and they both listened to the crashing waves for a few lingering seconds before he took a breath to continue. “I am only trying to give you options I wish I had, Yuuri, by not forcing you to work so many hours,” he said, flicking his bright blue eyes over to Yuuri’s for a short moment before looking up at the clouds again.  “Your life should not be the way mine is. _Was_.  The way it was.”  

This last part was whispered so quietly Yuuri almost did not hear, but he _did_ , and something different twisted in his stomach this time.  Victor turned his head on their makeshift towel pillow to look at him, though, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips so that his eyes sparkled.  The heaviness of his words seconds ago may not have existed, for the happiness on Victor’s face when their gazes met, and the uneasiness in Yuuri’s gut dissipated.  He grinned dopily in return.

“Besides,” Victor said, “I love coming to the beach with you.  Being with you is my favorite way to spend my time.”

“Oh,” was all Yuuri could say to that, his face turning scarlet.  He was used to this part, at least, Victor saying things that made him blush, and he just continued to smile and smile.  He rolled to his side and pushed himself up to an elbow, looking down at Victor with a slight height advantage now. There was a very faint pink dusting Victor’s nose and cheekbones, though Yuuri was positive it was just the summer heat Victor complained of so much.  Maybe even a sunburn through his expensive sunscreen. “I bet you’ve been to lots of fancier European beaches with your friends, though.”

He wasn’t sure what made the disparaging words come out, really, but the shuttered expression that briefly came and went across Victor’s face in response to them was only the slightest bit more confusing than his own reaction.  Victor shook his head, staring up at him intently.

“No, Yuuri,” he insisted quietly.  He reached up to touch Yuuri’s forearm where it fell across Yuuri's stomach toward the sand, his fingers hesitant, soft.  “ _You_ are my friend.  Only you.”

The truth in his words was there, was obvious.

Yuuri stared down at him from the short distance between them, stared at his thick hair, limp with salt from the ocean; stared at his sloping nose ending in a sharp point; the high cheekbones and that perfectly defined jaw that Yuuri has been wanting to trace with a finger for weeks now but had been holding back from; he stared at the strong eyebrows, his beautiful eyes.  His lips, plush and masculine, with that delicate cupid’s bow that curved his smile into a heart. Victor was watching him back, silent and pensive as Yuuri studied his face, but this time Yuuri didn’t blush when he knew he’d been caught.

“Yuuri?”

Victor’s voice was still quiet, not quite vulnerable but holding a note of insecurity that Yuuri had only heard from him a scarce number of times, and Yuuri met his eyes without a hint of nerves in his stomach.  Somehow he knew, in that flutter of a moment, that he could lean over and kiss him, and that Victor would kiss him back. Sure as he had ever known anything in his life.

That thought did make him flush, but not with embarrassment.

Instead, he gave in to his long-held impulse and reached out with the knuckles of two fingers to stroke down Victor’s jaw, from just below his ear to the jut of his chin.  Victor froze at the contact, startled as Yuuri’s fingers moved across his skin. Several grains of sand were stuck to Yuuri’s hand, making the touch the slightest bit rough, but Victor didn’t seem to care as his eyes fluttered closed.  His skin was so soft, so smooth, and Yuuri wanted to repeat the motion again and again, wanted to touch his cheeks, too, and his hair and his neck - but he didn’t. He withdrew his hand and Victor opened his eyes again quickly.

An apology was on the tip of Yuuri’s tongue, but he bit it down.  “I’m glad we’re friends,” he murmured. “I’m glad I know you.”

Victor heard the depth of what was just under Yuuri’s words - _you, the real you_ \- and he beamed, his smile bright as the sun overhead as it slowly, slowly began to move toward the horizon.  

Makkachin chose that moment to yawn and stretch, her long legs going stiff for a few seconds as she did.  They both looked at her, captivated by everything the dog did, and then immediately regretted the attention as she jumped up and shook vigorously, sand flying every which way.  Victor tried to roll away into Yuuri, an arm flung up to protect his eyes from the launched sand but Yuuri just laughed when Makkachin launched at her person, barking and trying to get him up.

“I think it’s time to go,” Yuuri said, sitting up all the way and reaching around himself to gather the towels.  “Dinner time for Makkachin.”

Victor settled the poodle with easy, consoling words, reaching around then to find their discarded bento boxes and gently put them into the beach bag, which he offered to Yuuri for the sandy towels after retrieving Makkachin’s leash from inside.  He grinned. “So it seems. Dinner for us, too.”

“We can come back,” Yuuri offered as he finished packing their things.  He glanced at Victor, who was pulling a dry tee-shirt on to be more decent for the walk home.  Victor paused and looked back at him, his face open and waiting to hear whatever Yuuri had to say.  “To the beach. This weekend, if you want. I...do need to train as much as I can, but you’re right.  It doesn’t have to be the only thing we do.”

The radiant smile he received was worth it, in that moment, for any training Yuuri might miss in exchange for a little beach trip every now and then.  He watched, that familiar blush dusting over his neck, as dimples pinched into Victor’s cheeks with the force of his grin. He had only seen those dimples twice before.  Victor’s eyes were sparkling brightly in the lowering sun and Yuuri looked away from them, emotion spilling over in his stomach.

“I’d love that, Yuuri,” Victor said, honest and quiet.  He reached out for Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri gave it to him, their palms sliding together.  “You give me so much. Thank you.”

They walked home in gentle silence, but Yuuri didn’t mind.  He could feel the comfortable warmth of Victor’s hand in his, could still smell Victor’s sweat and sunscreen and the saltwater dried on both their skin, and he was happy.

 


End file.
